The Queen's Ballad
by liondancer17
Summary: Memoirs of the late Queen Victoria, and a fair look at her character, and her tragic story.


A/N

I have a very mixed opinion on Queen Victoria. I love her personality in the manga, of course. I love how she is a strong, yet elderly woman, and I just love her character. Queen Victoria in the anime, though, is fascinating. I love her dark character, and I love how _tragic _she is. I love her character design, how she looks like just a young child, despite her true age. I love her tragicness, the deep sadness that just _seeps_ from her doll-like appearance.

Unfortunately, though, no one else seems to see her that way. I understand the anger that comes from the inaccurate portrayal of Queen Victoria, but, despite being a history buff, I don't mind. I see her as a _character_, not as Her Royal Majesty herself. I honestly don't get at all why not many people like her. Is it because she _dared _to interrupt the yaoi-ness and _dared_ to intrude upon dear Basy? I don't know. All I know is that she is _reeeeeeeally _under-appreciated, and that I wish more people were fans.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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(Victoria's POV)

"_Her Majesty Victoria, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland Queen, Defender of the Faith, Empress of India._"

A tiny thing, able to be carried in his arms like a little girl. Truly, she _had_ been a child. She was born with curly silver hair that fell down her waist, and eyes bluer than the sky. She was small, petite, with large, sad eyes, and tiny fingers that were barely able to grasp the scepter that she held. She had no strength, no presence that a Queen, that a woman of _God_, should be able to have. She was so small, so fragile, that a single touch from her dearest should have shattered her entirely.

She was called an angel.

Had there ever been a more ironic statement uttered by man? Had there ever been something more hateful, more disgusting, more of a lie? Her dearest mother, her dearly beloved Albert, they all made that statement about her. Had they been lying? Had they been laughing?

Surely, they must have been.

All those sweet words, all those gentle smiles...

They lied.

* * *

_She swept through the room, white gown spinning as she smiled. Eyes shut, she lent against his sturdy chest, feeling his warm arms around her small, doll-like form. __It was such a strange feeling. She felt warmth spread through her small body, the all-encompassing glow of light, of love. It was as if God himself had reached down, taking her small heart in his hands, and gave her all of the light in the entire world._

_This was love._

_"My angel, why are you shaking so?" Prince Albert whispered._

_Victoria smiled._

_"I'm just so happy..."_

* * *

**God doesn't exist.**

Victoria had come to terms with that fact.

It wasn't that _a _God doesn't exist, of course. That certainly wasn't true. Ash had spoken long about the purity, the _righteousness, _of God. There must have been some being out there that he had meet. One could see the vehemence, the _worship _in his eyes.

**God doesn't exist.**

It was _her _God that didn't exist. It was the God that Victoria had grown up on, the one that her mother had said so much about. It was the loving, kind, merciful God that Victoria had spent so long learning about. Could there _ever _be a God like that, when all he does is take away? No, that God simply **didn't exist.**

* * *

_"Why? WHY WHY **WHY?**"she screamed, beating her tiny fists upon the bed, fingers curling into the silken sheets. Rain fell down her face, falling in a torrent upon her beloved. She threw her head back and screamed, all the pain in the world ripping from her throat. It was an unearthly sound, almost demonic. It was the sound of someone dying from the inside-out, while her beloved died from the outside-in.  
_

_The windows shattered into a tiny pieces, each sliver burying itself in her skin, crawling down to her heart. The bird resting within its chambers flapped its wings while blood fell down her lips. _

**_"WHY?"_**_she screamed again. Why? Why? That was the only question she could ask. Why? Who would do this? Why would someone take her life from her? Why just one little piece at a time? Why not kill her now? Why flay each piece of skin from her, one at a time, rather than just now?_

_Why was there no God in this world?_

_Victoria buried her face in her dead beloved's chest, fingers curling into his soft skin, attempting to find warmth._

_From behind her, the curtains shifted, as the angel watched her die, one piece at a time._

* * *

The wondrous thing about sleep is that it is the one thing that allows humanity to escape. It dulls the pain. it allows humanity to live in their own world.

Heaven.

Such a lie, but she was willing to swallow it.

So, the Queen allowed herself to sleep. She became a doll, sleeping within a glass case, waiting patiently until the time came for her to awake.

She slept, _**her** _angel at her side.

She was impure. She was not what Ash wanted.

That was fine.

She did not care, truly. She did not feel.

She did not wake.

She was a doll, fingers barely able to clasp the scepter given to her.

That was fine.

"_Her Majesty Victoria, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland Queen, Defender of the Faith, Empress of India._"

* * *

_"Why will you not allow yourself to be pure?" the angel asked. _

_For the first time, Queen Victoria looked him in the eye. Her large, sad eyes were narrowed, almost giving a touch of emotion._

_"I am not pure." she said. Her voice was merely a whisper. "I am not pure. I am not what you want."_

_The angel's eyes widened, almost in confusion. _

_"My Queen..." he said._

_"Leave us." she said. Her voice was soft, but strong. "Leave us, we are human, are we not? We are not pure. Go find someone suiting your taste, since we are surely not what you desire. We...we would rather be with the one we love, and not with you!"_

_The angel's eyes narrowed._

_"As you wish."_

* * *

The Queen shut her eyes, smiling. Her long gown swept the floor as she danced. Her cheek rested against his chest, and she felt his arms around her small, doll-like form.

She was awake at last. She was stained, impure, corrupt, but awake and whole.

That was enough for the tired, broken queen.

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A/N Please review.


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